A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Set
by nomdeplume30
Summary: Jeremy and David are on their way to the set. They end up somewhere they don't expect. David gains some insight into his character. A Very Late response to Aleine Skyfire's challenge.
1. Chapter 1

"Mr. Brett, Mr. Burke, we're ready for you on set."

Jeremy and I acknowledged the summons with a nod and a wave. I took a last sip of my now lukewarm coffee and stood. Jeremy stood as well and stretched. I couldn't help but think again of how right he looked. He _was_ Sherlock Holmes. His transformation once in costume was just mind boggling. He was perfect. I, on the other hand, still felt awkward and unsure of myself in this role. I didn't know what to do with my character as his sidekick. And the script they'd given us for "The Adventure of the Dancing Men" wasn't helping me much. Watson just didn't have a whole lot to do but react and be astonished.

Jeremy started for the set and I followed in his wake. Might as well get in character now. We were shooting in the sitting room. It was the opening scene of the episode when Holmes makes his astonishing deduction about South African securities. We were coming up on the door of the sitting room and Jeremy pushed it open to enter, but stopped abruptly. I ran right into him. My apology was cut short by his sharp, "What in the blazes!"

"What is it?" I asked, standing on tiptoe and looking over his shoulder into the room. I stared, dumbfounded. "What on earth?" I breathed. We were looking into a sitting room, but it wasn't our set. There was no crew, no cameras, no filming paraphernalia. Nothing. Well, not quite nothing. There were two very astonished gentlemen staring at us. One was standing by the fireplace in a gray dressing gown, a pipe in his hand as he stared at us. The other, a shorter, stockier man in a brown suit, was clutching a newspaper and regarding us with open mouthed astonishment. He recovered himself quickly and came to his feet. He kept darting glances between the taller man and Jeremy. And I could see why. They looked enough alike to be brothers.

"Can we help you?" he finally asked. His voice was a deep rumble that I hadn't expected. I looked at him again and realized that though his hair was darker than mine and he was rather larger than myself, he and I shared a resemblance ourselves, though, more superficial than Jeremy and the other stranger. A sudden realization hit me and I took a step back.

"Surely not!" I exclaimed.

"Pardon?" the shorter man asked.

I gave Jeremy a small shove to propel him into the room and stepped in behind him. The tall stranger's eyes darted to me then swung to his companion in surprise.

"What the devil!" the shorter man said as I came fully into view. He looked to his friend, "Holmes, what is going on here?"


	2. Chapter 2

I saw Jeremy start at the use of the name.

"It can't be," he breathed. "This isn't possible!" He abruptly collapsed into a nearby chair.

The shorter man stepped forward, "Are you alright, sir? I can help. I am a doctor."

"Doctor Watson?" I managed to choke out.

He looked at me in some surprise, "Yes. Doctor Watson," he responded, confirming the idea that had formed in my head, as improbable as it might seem. I must have paled considerably, for he stepped over to the decanters and had two glasses of what I assumed to be brandy poured and in our hands more quickly than I could have imagined. He pushed me gently into my own chair as he handed me the glass.

"I think we could use a glass ourselves, old chap," Holmes said, poured two more glasses, and handed one to Watson.

The four of us sat and stared at one another for a few more seconds and Holmes finally spoke. "This is most peculiar. Possibly the most peculiar thing that has ever happened to me. And that is saying quite a bit." He stood abruptly and narrowed his eyes as he regarded Jeremy and me. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And what do you mean by bursting into our sitting room unannounced and bearing such an unlikely resemblance to us both?" He began to pace. "One or the other could just be a coincidence, but not both. And you cannot have been sent by one of our enemies. Judging from your own astonishment, we were not what you expected to see when you came through that door." He stopped and stood directly in front of me. "So, please, do us the curtesy of explaining yourselves."


	3. Chapter 3

I will confess to feeling rather intimidated with Sherlock Holmes looming over me demanding an explanation. I stood quickly to at least lessen the effect of his height, even if I could not negate it entirely. I suddenly found myself nearly nose to nose with Doctor Watson. The stocky man had quickly imposed himself between me and Holmes.

Holmes laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Watson, it is alright." Apparently, the good doctor had taken my abrupt movement as a precursor to violence upon his friend. I held my hands up, palms out, to indicate peace. Watson studied me for a moment then stepped aside.

"My apologies," he said with dignity. "I must confess to being rather discomposed at the moment and prone to overreaction. Do forgive me."

"Of course," I said quickly. I glanced at Jeremy who was still just staring around him like a man in a dream. "We should be the ones apologizing. I honestly have no idea how we got here. You were right, Mr. Holmes, when you said you were not what we expected to see when we came through the door. But I'm afraid the truth is rather fantastic."

Holmes regarded me calmly, "Pray, return to your seat and regale us."

I shrugged and sat down. He moved to the fireplace and started stuffing his pipe with tobacco he pulled from the Persian slipper hanging there. Unaccountably, I found myself smiling as I watched him. It was just as the books had described. It was an incredibly surreal moment and I looked at Jeremy. He, too, was watching Holmes closely with a look of wonder on his face. Holmes glanced between the two of us, raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.

I started back to myself, "Right, sorry." I took a deep breath. Where did I start? This was just too incredible. "I suppose the best place to start is to introduce ourselves. I am David Burke and my friend is Jeremy Brett. We're – " I hesitated, "well, we're not from around here. We-" I looked helplessly to Jeremy. He shot me a bemused smile and gestured for me to continue. "We're actors." I said.

"Ah," Holmes said, "That does explain a few things. But not all."

"Yes." I stood up and crossed to the window. I pushed aside the curtain and looked out. I was once again taken aback. It was London as I'd never seen London before. Our sets were good, but they didn't do it justice.

"Here, sir, step away from there!" Doctor Watson said sharply as he quickly appeared at my side, pulling the curtain closed again and drawing me away from the window rather roughly. Holmes quickly moved to the other window and peered out cautiously. It dawned on me what they must be thinking.

"I can assure you that I didn't signal anyone in the street."

"Forgive us if we don't take your word for that," Watson all but growled at me. I stared at him a moment, surprised at how fierce he looked.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's just that-" I broke off and looked to Jeremy again.

He finally spoke up, "As David said, we're not local. We don't know anyone, save you two fine gentlemen." _Oh, no, _I thought. This was not the time for his sense of the absurd to surface!

"So where are you from then?" Watson asked suspiciously.

Jeremy and I looked at each other. It was too fantastic to even think it, let alone say it.

"The future?" I said uncertainly.

Jeremy shook his head, "Alternate reality," he offered.

I considered. "That does make more sense considering they are fictional characters."

"What _are_ you talking about?" Watson demanded. Holmes just watched us closely.

I turned back to the two men, the two fictional characters who were somehow standing in front of me, and held my hands out helplessly, "It's difficult to explain."

"Try," Holmes commanded. "I grow tired of this and require answers."

"Alright then, here's the whole thing, and you can judge for yourselves just how mad it is. Jeremy and I are actors. We were hired to play Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson in a series of episodes produced by a company called Granada. It's for a television show called 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.'"

"I have never heard of the Granada production company," Holmes said.

"Well, that only makes sense since it doesn't exist yet," Jeremy put in.

"Doesn't exist?" Holmes repeated. "Then how do you work for them? You cannot truly be from the future," he scoffed.

Jeremy shrugged, "You are free to believe or disbelieve as you choose. We are simply telling our story."

"Story is right," Watson grumbled. "Surely, Holmes, you cannot think this is the truth."

"But what is the purpose of such a fantastic fiction, Watson? What do they hope to accomplish?" He rounded on me. "What is a television show?"

"It's like the theater, but we are able to broadcast it directly into peoples' homes," I tried to explain.

"Broadcast?"

"Yes, a signal that travels through the air to a receiver in a home and it shows up on a… display box that we call a television. People watch the program in the comfort of their homes."

Just then, there was a brief knock on the sitting room door. "Will you gentlemen be wanting supper anytime soon?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she opened the door. She stopped abruptly when she caught sight of us. It must have been a bizarre sight; matching pairs of her lodgers. But the good woman rose to the occasion.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company," she said primly. "I didn't hear the door."

* * *

><p>AN: I just wanted to add a thank you to those who are reading and/or reviewing. Feedback is appreciated! And there's no denying there's a rush associated with opening your email and finding review alerts. Thanks for making my day! :)

On a side note, this is obviously _fiction_. I'm completely making up character traits for Jeremy and David. I know a little information about them both, but really I'm just making it up.


	5. Chapter 5

"Think nothing of it, Mrs. Hudson," Holmes said breezily. "I don't think you've ever met my brother, Jeremy. And Watson's cousin, David."

"Pleased to meet you, gentlemen," she said.

"Likewise," I replied with a nod.

"A pleasure," Jeremy said rising from his chair.

"If you could send up dinner for four that would be lovely, Mrs. Hudson. So sorry for the inconvenience, but it was a surprise for all of us. They met abroad and when they realized the connection, they thought to spring it on us."

"It worked, too," I said with a ghost of a smile. Holmes laugh was unexpected, and even Watson smiled.

Mrs. Hudson relaxed a little, "No inconvenience, sir. It will just take a few minutes longer. I'll be back as soon as it's ready."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. You are a wonder." Holmes smiled at her.

She smiled at the praise and closed the door behind her on the way out.

"Brother?" Jeremy quirked an eyebrow at Holmes.

"Believable enough, considering the uncanny resemblance," Watson said. "It really is remarkable." He turned to me. "You are not so impressive."

I bristled, but then caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. I smiled slowly, "Well, it's your own fault," I replied.

He cocked his head, "My own fault?"

"There is so little description of you we didn't have much to go on."

"Again, you make no sense."

"Your stories. You don't spend much time on yourself."

"Your productions are of my stories?" He looked dumbfounded. I nodded.

"Romantic twaddle," Holmes said derisively.

Jeremy smiled, "It's still what the public wants."

Watson looked triumphantly at Holmes who just puffed on his pipe and stared at us.


	6. Chapter 6

"I will accept your story for the moment," he said suddenly, "simply because I can see no reason for you to lie so fantastically. Shortly we will have dinner and then spend a quiet evening in. You will all be silent while I think."

Watson looked at us with a vaguely apologetic gleam in his eye, "I have books to occupy yourselves with. And plenty of newspapers." He gestured to the tipping stacks of newspapers piled up around the room.

"Ah, thank you," I said hesitantly.

The door opened again and it was Mrs. Hudson with our dinner. She laid the small table for four and left the tray on a side table. She disappeared with a smile in our direction.

Holmes sprang to the table and began serving the food. We all sat and Holmes began talking. He seemed determined to treat us like regular guests and not mad men who claimed to be from an alternate reality future. It was actually a very good meal. The food was delicious and as long as I managed not to spend too long thinking about who I was actually sitting down to dinner with, I could almost enjoy it. None of us brought up our abrupt appearance and crazy explanation until we had finished the meal and were sitting around the room with a whiskey in hand.

Then Holmes said, "Now tell me exactly how you got here."

"I opened the door," Jeremy said simply. "There was nothing fancy. No strange mist, no world tilting or spinning, nothing. We were on our way to the set, I opened the sitting room door, and we were here. I can tell you it was rather disorienting."

"I imagine," Holmes said drily. "And you're sure there was nothing else?"

"Positive," he insisted. I nodded in agreement.

"Any ideas on how to get back?" Watson spoke up.

Jeremy and I looked at each other. The thought had been on my mind since the beginning and I could tell it had been in his, too.

"None," I said.

"My only thought is to try to walk out the door and see if it takes us back," he suggested. We both looked at the closed door.

"Make the attempt," Holmes instructed.

We stood slowly. Now that it came down to it, I found myself oddly reluctant to leave. This was a remarkable opportunity to pick up some insights into my character. I'd already witnessed his fierce protectiveness of his friend. I'd also seen his humor, which, frankly, had come as a surprise. But we didn't belong here. It was wrong on so many levels. But what an experience!

Jeremy was already standing at the door, but I approached the Doctor slowly. "It truly was a pleasure to meet you, sir," I said holding out my hand. He stood, surprised, and grasped my hand. His grip was firm and friendly. He smiled, "I'm not so sure I can say the same, cousin."

I laughed, "Understandable." I joined Jeremy at the door. "You really think this will work?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"No idea. But nothing better comes to mind." He nodded at Holmes and Watson. "Here goes nothing." He opened the door and stepped through. I followed him…

* * *

><p>AN: I decided on two updates in a row since Chapter 5 is pretty short. And Chapter 6 is a nice little cliffhanger. :)


	7. Chapter 7

…into the hall. We turned and regarded our look a likes in the other room.

"It was worth a try," Jeremy mumbled. He sighed. "I need a cigarette." He went back into the sitting room and again I followed.

Holmes must have heard him for he offered us cigarettes as we reentered the room. Jeremy accepted. I didn't. I sat down with a sigh as Jeremy lit up. He drew in a deep breath and sighed in relief as he exhaled. "This is nuts," he said. "Do you suppose we're hallucinating?"

"Maybe one of us is, but how could we both be having the same hallucination?" I replied.

"Point."

"If it is a hallucination, I hope it's yours. I don't think I can handle going crazy."

Watson laughed. Again, his humor took me by surprise. He'd seemed such a staid fellow in the stories.

"So what happens now?" Jeremy asked, puffing his cigarette and drawing comfort from that small bit of familiarity.

"Now we are all silent while I think," Holmes said as he restuffed and lit his pipe.

"Why don't you go smoke in your room, Holmes," Watson suggested. "It's late. I'll fix up the sitting room so our relations can have a place to sleep tonight and we'll deal with all of this tomorrow."

Holmes sighed as if much put upon, "Very well, Watson. Good night." And without waiting for a response, he disappeared into his bedroom.

Watson began bustling around the sitting room gathering blankets and pillows. "I don't know what to make of you two gentlemen, but if there is any answer here, I'm sure Holmes will find it."

"Of course," I agreed quickly. He looked at me sharply.

"You don't believe me?"

"I'm sure Mr. Holmes is a very intelligent man," I replied, "but I believe that this may be beyond even his powers."

"You may be correct, but let's hope not."

* * *

><p>AN: You're getting a veritable bombardment of updates today. I want to get this story moving!


	8. Chapter 8

It was late, but I hadn't been able to sleep. I could tell by Jeremy's tossing and turning on the couch across the room that he could not either. He sighed deeply and finally spoke, "David, what are we going to do?"

I sat up in my armchair, echoed his sigh and said, "Your guess is as good as mine. God only knows how we got here. There's nothing we can do to try to get home. I don't care how smart Holmes is, he's not solving this particular mystery."

"Agreed." He paused, "David," continued after a moment, "do you realize the incredible opportunity we have here?"

"What?"

"If this isn't some crazy hallucinogenic experience, this is a gift! We have a first hand chance to get inside these characters' heads! Think how this will effect our performances." His passion and excitement were infectious and I found myself smiling.

"It had occurred to me, yes. But it's hard to get past the surrealism of our situation to grasp that idea. I mean, they're not real, Jeremy. How on earth is this even happening?"

"I say, let's not worry about that and just enjoy it."

"For how long?" I asked quietly. He was silent. "What if we never go back?" I pressed. "What then? We can't stay here forever."

"I know, David." Another deep sigh. "Try to get some sleep. Maybe we'll just wake up at home and this will all just be some crazy dream."

"Right," I agreed half-heartedly. "Some crazy dream. We can hope." I was not optimistic, but I settled deeper into the armchair that was my bed for the evening. The foot rest had been shoved closer so I could stretch my legs out. I pulled my blanket up higher and suppressed another sigh. These clothes were _not_ designed to be slept in.


	9. Chapter 9

I did eventually fall asleep and the next thing I heard was a rattling of dishes. I sat up and looked around blearily. Nothing had changed from the night before. We were still in the not-our-set sitting room. Jeremy was snoring lightly on the couch and Mrs. Hudson was quietly setting out breakfast.

She smiled at me, "Good morning, sir," she said softly. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Holmes asked for breakfast to be sent up."

"No apologies necessary, Mrs. Hudson. We are the inconvenience. You just go about your business and ignore us."

"Oh, Mr. Watson, you're no inconvenience at all, sir. I'm tickled to meet some of my lodgers' family. Please do let me know if you need anything."

"That's very kind of you, ma'am," I replied smiling at her unexpected and completely undeserved good will.

"Not at all, Mr. Watson. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Thank you, I will." At least that was not a lie. It smelled delicious and I couldn't wait to get to the table. I stood and straightened my clothes as best I could. They were incredibly wrinkled. I was sure I looked a complete mess. The door from Holmes's room opened and he sailed into the sitting room. He paused when he saw me standing there.

"Ah, still here, I see. I had had a vague hope you would disappear just as abruptly as you appeared." He lit his pipe and drew in a breath. "Well, no matter. Breakfast first. Watson should be down any moment. He is never too long after the food appears."

The sitting room door opened just then and Doctor Watson entered. Holmes shot me a conspiratorial look full of amusement. I suppressed my own smile as the doctor greeted us. He gave Holmes and I a suspicious look, but simply said good morning.

Jeremy stirred on the couch and sat up. He groaned, "It wasn't a dream."

"No," I agreed, "but on the up side, there's breakfast," I said cheerfully. He snorted and rubbed his face.

"You and your food. He acts like he's going to die whenever he misses a meal."

Holmes looked at Watson and smirked, "Who do I know that's like that?"

Watson simply ignored his friend, sat down at the table in a most dignified manner and motioned me to join him. I did so, trying not to laugh. I was afraid it would come out sounding rather hysterical. Jeremy and Holmes did eventually join us, but breakfast was a silent affair. Small talk was out of the question, and I didn't want to deal with weightier issues until I absolutely had to. I thought that maybe if I ignored the problem it would go away. Avoidance is rarely a satisfactory solution, and it proved so in this case as well. We were still there when breakfast was finished.


	10. Chapter 10

Holmes had been regarding us silently for some time now. He'd finished his toast quickly and had just sat and brooded. When he finally did speak, his words were completely unexpected.

"So, Watson," he said suddenly, "you do not propose to invest in South African securities?"

Watson started and stared at his friend for a moment; then he smiled slowly and looked at Jeremy and me. "Holmes, has anyone told you you're an incorrigible show off?"

Holmes huffed and made as if to leave the room.

Watson laughed, "Very well, Holmes. How on earth do you know that?" he asked feigning astonishment.

"You were taken aback, were you not?" Holmes demanded.

"Of course I was, Holmes."

"I ought to make you sign a paper to that effect."

"What on earth for?"

"Because in a few moments you will say it is all so absurdly simple."

"Will I? I'm sure I shan't." He was trying hard not to smile, and I could see his amusement as he teased his friend. "Please enlighten us."

"Very well. I can tell from an inspection of the groove between your left forefinger and thumb that you do not propose to invest your small capital in the goldfields."

Now Watson looked properly astonished. As did Jeremy and I, but for different reasons. We were staring at each other, eyes wide and mouths open.

_Our script! _He mouthed to me. I nodded. This was the opening scene to "The Adventure of the Dancing Men!" Had we just landed right in the middle of the case? My head was spinning.

I missed Holmes's explanation as I considered this new development. I focused again when I heard Watson, clearly suppressing a smile, say, "How absurdly simple!"

"Quite so." Holmes was obviously annoyed with his friend, and Watson burst out laughing. Holmes gave him an irritated look, but Watson's laugh was infectious and he finally smiled and acknowledged the joke. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Watson. "Well what do you make of this 'absurdly simple' little thing, friend Watson?" he demanded.

"Why, Holmes, it's a child's drawing! What are you doing with something like this?"

"Oh, is that your idea?"

"What else should it be?"

"That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt is anxious to know. He will be here shortly and here is where we run into a practical problem."


	11. Chapter 11

Jeremy and I had sat silently through their exchange. This was mind boggling! What were we to do now?

"Us." Jeremy said. "We're your practical problem."

"Yes, unfortunately, you cannot be present while the doctor and I consult with our client."

"Understandable," I said. "But what are we supposed to do?"

"They could wait in my room," Watson suggested.

"I think they can use the time more profitably," Holmes replied. "Since we are speaking of practical problems, these gentlemen came with nothing. We have no idea how long they may be here." He moved to the desk and pulled out a wallet. "Here is enough to purchase the necessary items," he said as he began removing the money.

"Oh, no," Jeremy protested. "You don't need to do that. We'll be fine." I nodded to show my agreement.

"Nonsense," Holmes scoffed. "I'm willing to lose a few pounds if it means a mystery as intriguing as the two of you. You must promise to return, though."

We readily agreed and reluctantly accepted the money. He gave us brief directions to a nearby shop and started herding us toward the door with a glance at the clock.

"Cubitt, did you say?" Watson spoke up. He was standing at a bookshelf near the window holding a large book.

"Oh, no, Watson, I've already looked him up. And judging from his background, I imagine he's as respectable as he is worthy."

Watson nodded and set the book back on the shelf. He glanced out the window and smiled. "With a fresh face, an open countenance, and wearing a brown bowler hat," he said as he scooped up a journal from the desk and swaggered toward the door.

Jeremy and I were forgotten for the moment as Holmes stared dumbfounded at his friend.

"Oh, come now, you cannot _possibly_ know that!" Holmes exclaimed.

"Really, Holmes?" Watson asked playfully as he opened the sitting room door. "Follow me gentlemen," he said to us, "I'll show you out."

As we moved toward the door, we heard the knocks signaling the arrival of their client. Watson cocked his head and sauntered out of the room followed by Holmes's laugh as he realized that Watson had seen the man from the window.

"Watson, you will stay and keep a record of the case?" Holmes called after us as we headed down the stairs.

"My dear fellow," Watson said as he held up the journal and waved it at his friend.

"Ah, very good. And I will see you gentlemen this afternoon," he added.

We were bustled out the door by the doctor as he greeted Mr. Cubitt and welcomed him in. He took one last look at us and his eyes were hard.

"You had better not betray Holmes's trust. I expect to see you this afternoon." His voice was as hard as his eyes, and I was amazed at how quickly he could go from easy going gentlemen to a man you didn't want to cross.

Jeremy and I exchanged a glance. I looked back and the doctor and nodded. "We'll be back."

He just nodded and went to rejoin Holmes and their new client.

Jeremy and I stared at each other for a moment. I'm sure I looked just as lost to him as he did to me.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks so much for all the reviews! They totally make my day. :) Now, fair warning: Be prepared for rather large liberties to be taken with the canon story of the Dancing Men. Hope you'll all stick with me. :) It does all work out in the end...hopefully...


	12. Chapter 12

We stood on the sidewalk for a few moments just taking in the sights. A set is one thing. No matter how realistic it looks, you still know it's a fake. But this...this was the real thing! The sights, the smells, the noise. We gaped for longer than we should have. We must have looked like fools.

Finally, Jeremy spoke, "Right. We'd better get moving. See if we can find this shop and run our little errand."

I grasped onto the familiarity of the idea of running errands. "Ok, errands. I can handle errands. It almost seems normal."

"Yes, but too bad it has to be shopping." We moved off down the sidewalk in the direction indicated on the paper Holmes had given us.

I snorted. I wasn't fond of shopping either. "This is going to be even more complicated than a regular shopping trip. How much can we buy with what we have? What do they consider 'necessary'? We're going to look like idiots."

"Stop borrowing trouble, David. Let's worry about that when we get to the shop."

We navigated the streets of London silently for a time, attempting to follow the directions Holmes gave us. There was so much to take in as we walked that, at times, we forgot what we were doing. We found ourselves turned around a few times simply from inattention to the route and the infurating vagueness of the directions.

"Remind me to have Watson give us directions next time," Jeremy muttered at one point as he tried to decipher the name of the street we were supposed to be on.

Eventually we located the shop. As we stood staring at it from across the street trying to work up the courage to go in, I was suddenly struck by a thought.

"Jeremy!" I grabbed at his arm.

He jumped and stared at me, eyes wide, "Good grief, David! Don't pounce on a fellow like that! What's got you all worked up?"

"Mr. Hilton Cubitt!"

"What about him?"

"Don't you remember the script? The story?"

"Yes, of course I do. What are you going on-" he broke off and looked at me with horror.

"He dies," I said urgently. "We need to warn them."

Jeremy bolted. I followed him as fast as I could. We garnered a number of odd looks. Two rumpled gentlemen running pell-mell down the sidewalk must have been an unusual sight. After a few wrong turns we had to stop to consult the directions we'd be given. As Jeremy examined the directions and we caught our breath, something else occurred to me.

"Jeremy," I panted, gripping his arm.

"What now?"

"What happens if we change the whole story?"

"What?" he looked confused.

"Cubitt dies in our story. If we tell them, we change it. Then what? What happens to 'The Adventure of the Dancing Men'?"

"Are you saying that we should keep this information to ourselves to be true to literature?" He looked horrified.

"No, I'm not saying that...exactly. I'm just bringing up a – potential obstacle."

"That assumes that any of this affects reality anyway. And it obviously cannot be since _none of this can __be real!_ But for the sake of our consciences, whether this is real or not, we _have_ to tell them."

"Well, then what are we standing here for? Lead on!"

And we were running again, weaving in and out between the infuriatingly slow pedestrians.

It could not have been more than ten minutes before we were pounding on the door to 221 B Baker Street shouting and demanding to be let in. A shocked looking Mrs. Hudson answered the door.

"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson, whatever is the matter?"

"Is he still here?" I panted, "We must speak to him."

"Who?"

"Mr. Cubitt, the client."

"No, he's just left," her voice followed us as we pounded up the stairs to the sitting room.


	13. Chapter 13

I half expected to see our set when we burst through the door, once again abruptly and unexpectedly. I didn't know whether to be upset or thankful when my eyes came to rest on the astonished pair before us.

"Gentlemen, this is becoming a habit," Watson said drily. Jeremy and I stood puffing in front of them and I could feel my face getting warm from embarrassment. Were we getting worked up over nothing? Surely a man's life means something, whether we were in a fantasy world or not?

"We're very sorry," Jeremy began, "but we have urgent information regarding Mr. Cubitt."

Holmes's eyebrow met his hairline, "_You_ have information about Mr. Cubitt. You stated last night that you know no one here."

"We don't," I insisted. "And we don't know Mr. Cubitt. But we know Doctor Watson's story."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Watson demanded. "I've never seen the man before today! Let alone written a story about him."

"Well, obviously you haven't written it yet," Jeremy said matter-of-factly. "But you will. And we've read it. To make this all even crazier, this is the exact story we were shooting when this madness began."

"Shooting?" Watson looked confused. "What do you shoot at?"

Jeremy ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "No, no, never mind. That doesn't matter. What does matter is that this man's life is in jeopardy and we can stop it."

Holmes eyes narrowed, "How can you have information about this case? What is going on here? Were you lying last night or now? And why? What can you hope to gain?" He stepped forward quickly to stand face to face with Jeremy.

I was struck again by their amazing resemblance. The sharp features, the black hair slicked back, the authoritative way they held themselves. Even in his sleep-rumpled suit, Jeremy was nearly as imposing as the real thing.

And I felt an unaccountable urge to come between them, to shield Jeremy from the anger Holmes was projecting.

Without thinking, I did so, quickly inserting myself between them, and not-so-gently shoving Holmes back a step. "What exactly are you accusing us of?" I demanded hotly.

Watson had moved quickly when I pushed Holmes back, and he was now standing next to his friend, his eyes on me. I didn't like the look I was receiving. I realized I had made a big mistake in laying a hand on Holmes. The doctor looked positively murderous. I was suddenly very nervous.


	14. Chapter 14

My sudden anger faded quickly under the dangerous glare of the doctor.

Holmes simply looked surprised.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"Holmes?" Watson finally looked away from me and glanced at his friend. I felt relief wash over me now that I wasn't being pinned with that stare.

"Did you see that? It was astonishing. Almost like watching ourselves."

"See what?"

"Just now. 'Holmes' was threatened and 'Watson' stepped in. You do get rather protective, old boy."

Watson looked affronted, "I do not! You're certainly capable of taking care of yourself."

"When you let me," Holmes returned.

Jeremy and I exchanged a bemused look. This was getting so off track.

Watson huffed and began to respond, but Holmes cut him off, "But that is not the point." He swung back to us. "The point is, you _cannot_ know anything about this case."

"But we do," Jeremy insisted. "Just listen to us. Last night you said you believed us. That we are from another place, another time, and that we know things you don't."

"Well, yes, but -"

"No!" Jeremy said forcefully. "We don't have time for this. We can debate this all to our hearts content, but we'll do it later."

I watched Holmes's eyebrow head for his hairline again. It must have been odd-being steamrolled by 'himself' like that.

"Now listen." Jeremy demanded. He quickly outlined the facts – the code to the dancing men, Abe Slaney and the American connection.

"I can verify those facts easily enough," Holmes said. "A telegram to America will take care of that. How long before this all comes to a head?"

"There is time," Jeremy said. "You receive a few messages and another visit from Mr. Cubitt. I don't recall exactly, but I think there were a few weeks before his life was in danger."

"What happens?"

"Abe Slaney kills him. Then Elsie – Mrs. Cubitt – shoots herself in her grief."

Watson looked horrified, "We can't let that happen! We must go there now, Holmes!"

"If there is time, as Mr. Brett says, then I choose to verify the American facts first. We need more data before we go barging in anywhere claiming Mr. Cubitt's life is in danger."


	15. Chapter 15

Holmes sent off his telegram to verify our assertions about Abe Slaney immediately.

We knew there was nothing we could do now but wait, so Jeremy and I went back out on our aborted errand to purchase necessities. We took our time, drinking it all in. It was delightful.

The time in the shop was not as bad as it could have been. We only looked like mild idiots by the time we emerged nearly two hours later. Extricating ourselves from the clutches of a London shopkeeper was harder than it sounds. But finally we were on our way back to Baker Street, our packages to be delivered later this evening, and a few more tomorrow.

The number of garments a man was expected to wear really was amazing. I found myself missing the simplicity of my slacks and polos in my closet at home. Our little shopping trip took care of one of the problems we were facing, but I found myself getting overwhelmed as I contemplated more of the practical issues that faced us if this turned out to be a long-term situation.

"Jeremy?"

"Yes?"

"In all seriousness, what are we doing here? This is completely, barking mad. I just bought Victorian underwear! With money that we got from _Sherlock bloody Holmes_ of all people. Who doesn't even really exist!" I could feel my control slipping away but was helpless to stop myself. My voice was rising in pitch and people were starting to look our way. "Are we going to have to find jobs? We can't live off of these guys forever. What in the blazes are we supposed to do now!" My breath was coming quickly and I could feel myself panicking.

Jeremy took my arm and drew me away from the other pedestrians crowding the sidewalk. "David, you need to calm down. Get a grip, man. Deep breaths."

I tried to follow his instructions and after a few moments I was under control again. I nodded my thanks and tried to move away and resume our course to Baker Street. His hand on my arm stopped me.

"To answer your original question, I have no idea what we're doing here, David. But we _are_ here and we need to just take it one day at a time. Upward and onward (1), you know."

"Right. Upward and onward. Glass half full and all that, huh?" I gave my jacket a tug to straighten it out. "I can do optimism." I took a deep breath and pasted a smile on my face. "See?"

Jeremy chuckled, "Thinly masked terror and optimism don't really resemble each other, dear boy."

I really did smile this time, "Tell me you're not as terrified by all this as I am."

"I'm trying not to be," he said finally resuming our walk. "If you take out the part that this is just plain impossible, it's really incredibly fascinating. And I'm getting quite a kick out of Holmes and Watson."

"He's not what I expected."

"Holmes?"

"No, Watson. He has a sense of humor."

"Well, of course he does."

"I had never noticed it before. He seemed a kind of boring sort actually. Just there so Holmes could look more brilliant. But he's a force to be reckoned with."

"I noticed. You'd better watch yourself when we get back. He didn't look happy when you gave Holmes that shove."

"Yes, I caught that particular death glare."

"What on earth made you do it?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. I acted on instinct and my instinct was to get him to back off of you."

"I think they're rubbing off on us."

"Is that a good thing or not?"

"Time will tell, I suppose."

We reached Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson greeted us with a smile, and we headed up the stairs, Jeremy in the lead. I saw him pause before he pushed the door open. He glanced at me over his shoulder. "Think it'll be the set this time?"

"I hope not," I said, and was completely surprised to realize that I meant it.

* * *

><p>(1) Jeremy's personal motto according to The Brettish Empire<p>

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They've been a great encouragement. I had the beginning and the ending, and was having trouble connecting them. Your enthusiasm for this story has been wonderful and has really helped me keep at it. So, now it's finished. There are 20 chapters total. Do you want the rest all at once, or shall we draw this out a little more? :)


	16. Chapter 16

He pushed the door open and it was not the set. Holmes was curled in his arm chair, smoking his pipe and reading the paper. Watson sat in his arm chair reading a yellow backed novel. There was a tray of tea things on the table.

We were greeted by a nod from Watson. Holmes didn't even acknowledge our presence.

We served ourselves tea and eventually found things to engage our attention. I felt completely in the way. I've rarely spent a more uncomfortable evening. I was afraid of speaking up and calling attention to myself. I wondered if Watson was still holding my manhandling of Holmes against me, but I wasn't going to be the one to remind him of it.

The evening passed in excruciating slowness. Suddenly, Holmes bounded up out of his chair, and darted to his room. He emerged moments later wearing a tattered jacket and pants, with a kerchief tied around his neck and a battered hat smashed on his head.

"I will be back in the morning," he announced and swept out the door, his majestic manner totally at odds with his attire.

Jeremy and I stared after him.

"He does this sometimes when he needs to think," Watson explained.

"Of course," Jeremy said.

Jeremy and I played cards while Watson read his book. The monotony was broken first by the delivery of some of our earlier purchases and then by Mrs. Hudson entering with our dinner.

Again, the meal was a silent affair. I don't know if Watson really didn't feel the need to speak or if he just had nothing to say to us.

After dinner Watson drew me aside, "I must speak with you," he said.

_Here it comes_, I thought. "Of course. What is it?"

"I want you to know that if you _ever_ lay a hand on Holmes again, you will regret it." His voice was like steel.

I swallowed. "I do apologize for that, doctor. Really, I never had any intention to -"

"I know you didn't, sir, or you would not be here now."

He walked out of the sitting room, heading up the stairs to his own room, and I realized I was shaking. I decided to make a special effort to remain on the doctor's good side.

Jeremy was staring at me when I turned around. He whistled softly. "That was scary."

"You're telling me," I replied collapsing onto the settee and running a hand through my hair. "That man scares me to death. It's not a wonder they make such a formidable team."


	17. Chapter 17

Holmes was back when I woke up the next morning. I was a little disconcerted that I hadn't heard him. But there he was, curled in his armchair smoking his first pipe of the day. It was the smell of the smoke that had awoken me.

I sat up and pulled on my new dressing gown. Holmes glanced at me.

"Good morning, Mr. Burke." He sounded far too cheerful.

I rubbed my eyes and looked at him blearily, "Morning. Successful evening?"

"Oh yes, very. One must keep up contacts with certain people in this business you know. I must admit I got no farther with the problem of you and your friend here." He gestured to Jeremy still sleeping on the couch. "I'm afraid your little problem may be beyond even me."

I was surprised by the admission and it must have showed. He raised his eyebrow at me.

"I hope that I have a realistic and practical view of my powers, Mr. Burke. Your situation is something entirely new to me and there is no frame of reference to begin with. It is simply a waiting game. We wait and what happens happens."

"Are you saying we should prepare long-term plans?"

"It is only practical. For the time being, I will keep a close eye on you. The information you claim to be in possession of needs to be checked and you are going nowhere until that is confirmed. Once this case is wrapped up, that will no longer be necessary. And as intriguing as the two of you are, you cannot stay here indefinitely. There is not room for four in the flat."

"So I've noticed," Jeremy said with a groan as he sat up and stretched. "You should invest in a more comfortable sofa."

He got a raised eyebrow for that comment. "There has been no need. Our settee is not generally employed in this manner."

Watson joined us then and after saying a quick good morning, Jeremy and I departed with our clothes to get ready for the day. Jeremy used Holmes room and I headed up the stairs to Watson's. I washed and dressed as quickly as I could. I smelled breakfast and I was starving. But the blasted cravat was giving me trouble.

"These ridiculous clothes," I muttered. I descended the stairs with it undone, intending to ask for help. When I entered the sitting room, they were all waiting for me around the table. To my unutterable disgust, Jeremy's cravat was perfect and I was sure he'd done it himself. Grumpily, I pulled mine off and threw it on the couch. "I'll deal with it after breakfast," I grumbled and sat down.

I tried to ignore the amused glances the others were exchanging. I really couldn't explain my bad temper anyway. It was more than just the uncooperative cravat. This whole thing was getting to me. My back hurt from that infernal armchair and we had another day of inactivity and waiting to look forward to.

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, David?" Jeremy asked playfully. He was far too chipper in my opinion. I glared at him but didn't respond as I speared a sausage and put it on my plate. He smiled and helped himself to some eggs.

"It's not funny," I said. I was horrified at how petulant I sounded. His smile broadened. "What on earth are you grinning at?" I demanded.

"I can't help it, David. You know how funny you are when you're grumpy."

"I'm not funny. I'm annoyed. And if you don't stop that grinning, you're going to regret it."

"You're not nearly as scary as Watson, so you can stop trying."

I choked on the sip of coffee I'd just taken, Holmes burst out laughing and Watson just regarded us all with a bemused look.

"The world has truly gone mad," he observed. That set Holmes off all the more and Jeremy joined him. I found myself smiling as well but I couldn't help but agree with the good doctor.

My mood lightened after that and Watson was good enough to assist me with the blasted cravat after breakfast.

"Am I to understand that men don't wear cravats where you come from?"

"No. We do have ties, but cravats are a thing of the past for the most part."

"A thing of the past," he repeated softly.

Holmes abruptly burst into our little scene of domesticity by slamming the sitting room door open and waving a paper around.

"Another message from Mr. Cubitt," he announced. Jeremy and I looked at each other.

"So soon?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes, and with more dancing messages."

He showed us the drawings.

"These say 'At Elriges' and 'Come Elsie.' The reply is 'Never'."

Holmes looked at us speculatively. "Right," he said decisively. "I am choosing to believe that you know what is going on here. How you do does not matter so much. The fact that you are using your knowledge to save this man is enough. I should get a response from America by tomorrow. I will wire Mr. Cubitt and tell him to take his wife on a trip. They will leave quietly. If Mr. Slaney is in the neighborhood as you say, he must not know they have gone. We will travel there as soon as we hear from America."

"This is moving much faster than your story, Doctor Watson," Jeremy said. "There were quite a few days between the messages."

"Surely you don't think everything always happened the way I wrote it?" Watson said with a smile. "Rather naive of you, don't you think?"

"Well, I suppose not. But I never believed any of it happened in the first place! It was all fiction until this! Now I don't know what to think."

"Are we truly relegated to fiction?" Watson asked sadly.

"A thing of the past," Holmes echoed our earlier conversation.

I didn't know how to respond to their sudden melancholy moods.

Holmes picked up his violin. I found myself leaning forward in anticipation. The melody I heard that night is one I've never heard again, but it's one I've never forgotten.

It spoke of all the things that were that we can never have again.

I thought I would weep for the beauty of it and for the sadness of it. I could see that Jeremy was equally moved as one tear tracked down his cheek.

"A thing of the past," he whispered.


	18. Chapter 18

That evening we received the much anticipated reply from America. The message confirmed all we'd said about Slaney. Holmes sent the wire to Mr. Cubitt suggesting he take his wife and travel for a while. He also requested use of their home while they were gone.

"I have an idea how to draw our American friend out," he said.

We prepared to travel and caught the early train the next morning.

"I have wired the police," Holmes said suddenly. "An Inspector Martin will join us eventually."

"Eventually?"

He just smiled.

We reached the Cubitt's mid-morning. They had already left by the time we arrived. Holmes immediately sent the stable boy off with a message to the Elrige farm.

"Now we wait," Holmes said as he settled into the sofa in the parlor.

"What makes you think he'll come?" Watson asked.

"I have written and asked him."

"The note sent with the stable boy, I presume, but why should he come?"

"I think I have known how to frame the letter," he said with a smile.

"Of course! The dancing men. I should have seen it at once," Watson said. "What did you say?"

"'Come here at once.' He will immediately assume that Mrs. Cubitt has written it, for who else could know their secret code?"

"Well done, old man."

He inclined his head modestly. We waited in silence for a time, my nerves getting more wound up by the moment.

Movement caught my eye. "There's someone coming up the path!"

"Look sharp!" Holmes leaped to his feet. "This is our man."

It was indeed our man. He was a tall, strapping fellow, energetically swinging his cane as he walked. We heard his loud, confident peal at the bell. We all exchanged a glance as the maid opened the door.

"I think, gentlemen," said Holmes quietly, "that we had best take up our position behind the door. Every precaution is necessary when dealing with such a fellow."

"In that case, shouldn't we have a pair of handcuffs?" Watson asked.

Holmes looked surprised, then disgusted, "Yes, Watson. Handcuffs would have been a wise idea. Pray have those ideas a little sooner from now on."

"Of course, Holmes," Watson returned drily. "You're just irritated you didn't think of it yourself."

"Really, Watson, now is not the time," Holmes was getting huffy. Even in the present circumstances I couldn't help but be amused at their exchange.

We all crowded in behind the door. We waited in silence for a minute – one of the minutes that one can never forget. Then the door opened, and the man stepped in. In an instant Holmes clapped a pistol to his head.

"Now, sir!" he cried, "We have you! And if you would please take a seat, we'd like to have a brief discussion."

The man had frozen when he felt the pistol at his head. Now he burst into a bitter laugh. "It seems you gentlemen have the drop on me. But I came here in answer to a letter from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt. Don't tell me that she's in this? Don't tell me that she helped set a trap for me?"

"Mrs. Hilton Cubitt is safely on her way to the Continent with her husband."

"Who wrote that note, then? No one on earth outside the Joint knows the secret of the dancing men!"

"I wrote it, sir," Holmes replied. "What one man can invent another can discover. Mrs. Cubitt has no idea of what is going on here today. She and her husband left early this morning."

"Husband! What right had he to her? She was pledged to me years ago! I tell you there was never a man in this world loved a woman more than I loved her! _I_ had a right to her not him!"

"She fled from America to avoid you, and she married an honorable gentleman in England. You dogged her and followed her, and made her life a misery to her in order to induce her to abandon the husband whom she loved and respected in order to fly with you, whom she feared and hated. You have been able to do no more than that. We have found you, sir, and we warn you. Should any future harm come to this family, we will find you. There is nowhere that you will be safe. You have the chance to leave now, and leave in peace. But you must never return."

"Elsie was mine first," he insisted.

"Be that as it may, you certainly have no right to her now that she is married to someone else," Watson interjected.

His words enraged our prisoner and he surged to his feet with a roar. The suddenness of his attack caught us all by surprise. We were also foolish enough to have not confiscated his stick once he came into the room. He now used it to knock the pistol from Holmes's grip. He then swung a great arm and Holmes was knocked to the floor. Watson sprang forward to assist. Slaney stooped quickly and caught up Holmes's pistol in one hand, his stick in the other.

"Stay back!" he shouted, brandishing the pistol at us.

He swung the gun towards Jeremy and, instinctively, I dove for my friend. The gun went off. I crashed into Jeremy, knocking him to the floor. I felt my body jerk as something hot and painful ripped through my arm, then I was falling as well. I landed in a heap on Jeremy.

I heard the enraged bellow of the doctor.

"Watson!" Holmes cried out.

I looked up to see Watson charging toward the bigger man, heedless of the weapons he was bringing to bear. But Watson was moving so quickly that before Slaney could get his gun or stick around, Watson had crashed into him with roar. The cane went flying, but Slaney kept his grip on the pistol.

"David, are you alright?" Jeremy was at my side, helping me sit up. "You're bleeding!"

My arm was throbbing painfully. I stared at the wound a moment."He shot me!" I heard the astonishment in my voice. I placed a hand over the gash, trying to stem the flow of blood.

I looked over at the two men struggling for the gun. They crashed to the floor and another shot rang out.

* * *

><p>AN: I can't tell you all how much your reviews have meant to me. Thanks so much for taking the time to read and review this story. I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying it so much. And thank you to those of you who aren't enjoying it for not bursting my bubble. :) Only two more chapters to go. The much anticipated conclusion will be posted tomorrow.


	19. Chapter 19

Time stopped. It seemed we were all frozen to the spot. I certainly was unable to move as the import of that shot sunk in. Then tangle of arms and legs on the floor shifted.

Watson's arm, his hand clutching the pistol, rose and fell quickly. It landed with a sickening thud. He pushed himself away from the big American and staggered to his feet.

A rush of air filled the room as the three of us let out the breath we'd been holding.

"Watson, you fool!" Holmes snapped. "What were you thinking!"

Watson smiled shakily, "I wasn't thinking, Holmes. You know how it is. You said so yourself. I'm the protective type."

Holmes laughed weakly, "You're mad."

"Most likely."

"Slaney?" Jeremy asked looking at the man lying so still.

"I'll need my medical bag. The shot missed both of us thankfully. But he's going to have a healthy knot on his head when he wakes up. I'll stop the bleeding and bandage it. The police can tend it from there. But first, I need to see to Burke."

"Burke?" Holmes sounded confused, then he looked at me, sitting on the ground a few feet away clutching my arm and blood seeping between my fingers. "Good heavens! I heard the first shot, but was too busy picking myself up to see where it had gone. That explains Watson's burst of heroism, as well," he added with a smile.

Watson ignored him and knelt down next to me, "Here, let me take a look."

"I don't think it's too bad," I said. "I think it just grazed me."

He gave me a level look, "Who's the doctor here?"

I smiled weakly, "Right. Sorry."

He chuckled and bent to examine the wound. "As it turns out, Burke, you're correct," he said after a moment. "It did just graze your arm. It's taken quite a chunk out, but nothing that won't heal in time. Let's get it cleaned and dressed. And you, Brett?" he addressed Jeremy. "You are not injured?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Jeremy replied quickly as he helped me get out of my coat and shirt. Watson set to dressing the wound. Whatever he used to sterilize it hurt like the dickens and I gasped.

Jeremy flinched. "David?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. That bullet would've hit me had you not reacted so quickly."

"Don't thank me too much, Jeremy," I said through clenched teeth as Watson once again doused the wound in sterilizer. "I'm beginning to regret it. Good lord, Watson, what is that stuff? It hurts like the devil himself!"

"Well, it's not something I'll forget any time soon," Jeremy said softly.

Once Watson had bound my arm, he and Jeremy helped me get back into my bloodied shirt and coat. Watson fashioned a sling out of some extra bandages and gently slid my arm into it. He stepped back once it was arranged to his satisfaction. He looked at me for a moment then smiled. "Well done, Burke," he said.

He left me to join Holmes who was talking with the Inspector who had just arrived. I felt unaccountably pleased by his praise.

Jeremy came up beside me, "Doing okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "You were right." I said.

He looked confused. "About what?"

"They're definitely rubbing off on us."

He looked at me for a moment, then just started laughing. After a moment I joined him. The odd looks that Holmes and Watson were shooting us only made it worse and we laughed harder.

Watson approached us after a moment, "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, fine," I said as I tried to catch my breath. "Really," I assured him. "Just coming off the adrenaline rush, I guess."

"Are you well enough to give a statement to Inspector Martin?"

"Absolutely."

Once we had wrapped things up with the Inspector and Abe Slaney was safely locked away in the police wagon to be transported to jail, we headed back to London.

"What say you to a celebratory dinner at Simpson's?" Holmes asked us as we were relaxing on the train.

"I'm not sure Burke is up to it," Watson spoke up.

"Nonsense, I'm fine," I said quickly. There was no way I was passing up an opportunity to see the famous Simpson's restaurant.

Watson raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Really," I insisted. "Just a bit of painkiller, and I'll be fine."

Eventually he agreed and after a quick stop at Baker Street to get a fresh shirt and coat for me, we were on our way to Simpson's.

The restaurant was very elegant and I felt rather awkward with one arm in a sling, but Jeremy was kind enough to help with anything needing two hands. Even with the awkwardness, at that moment there was no where that I would rather be than sitting down to dinner with these men. All of them new friends and all of them the best men I would ever have the honor to meet.

We talked animatedly through the dinner. Holmes and Watson related a few of their adventures that were not recorded. Jeremy and I talked about our jobs and how popular the two of them still were. They both looked overwhelmed with the knowledge.

On the walk home, I was starting to lag behind. My arm was throbbing painfully and each step I took jarred it all the more. Watson fell back to walk with me. Jeremy and Holmes forged on ahead talking excitedly with each other.

Watson smiled. "I still cannot fathom just how alike they are," he said. "They truly could be brothers."

"Yes. Quite remarkable."

"I must say, Burke, that you have become rather more impressive on further acquaintance." He glanced at me, his eyes warm and amused. "You mentioned once that it was a pleasure to meet me, and now I can honestly say the same to you. A pleasure, sir, and an honor."

I felt my face growing warm. I couldn't help smiling back, "Thank you."

"I'm planning on dining at my club tomorrow evening. Would you care to join me?" he shifted subjects smoothly.

"Yes, thank you, I'd be delighted!"

He nodded and we walked in companionable silence to rest of the way to Baker Street.


	20. Chapter 20

Jeremy and Holmes were waiting for us on the doorstep.

"Our apologies," Holmes said. "Brett and I hadn't realized you'd fallen behind."

Jeremy looked concerned, "Are you doing alright, David?"

I waved away his concern, "Oh, I'm fine. Another dose of painkillers and a little rest and I'll be right as rain."

Holmes and Watson preceded us up the stairs.

"After you," I motioned for Jeremy to go first.

He headed up the stairs and I followed slowly. The next thing I heard was a sharp cry.

"NO!" It was Jeremy. I bounded up the rest of the stairs, heedless of any pain in my arm.

"What! What is is?" I came up behind him and gasped.

He turned to me, stricken. "Not yet. I wasn't ready!"

I stared around me.

We were back. The set looked just as we'd left it. Full of cameras, lights and people...who were all staring at us.

"Your arm!" Jeremy cried and reached out to touch where I had been shot. There was no pain. For that matter, there was no sling and no wound. I looked at my clothes. I was in my costume, the gray suit I'd started this whole adventure in.

"We didn't even get to say good bye," Jeremy said softly. "I'm not ready," he repeated. He collapsed into a nearby chair. Completely overwhelmed, I sank to the floor beside him and slumped forward, my head cradled in my hands. I couldn't even speak.

"David? Jeremy?" It was the director. "What's going on, fellas?"

I stood abruptly, "I'm terribly sorry," I said, "but I need a moment." I turned and walked off the set. Jeremy followed me wordlessly.

"Hey, what's going on?" The director shouted after us. "We're on a tight schedule here!"

We ignored him and went to my dressing room. We sat down and just stared at each other.

"Tell me you remember it," he said softly.

"Every moment," I replied.

"Thank God," he sighed heavily. "So was it real?"

"I don't know how it could have been. And there's no bullet wound in my arm." As I spoke, my arm twinged. I jerked and stared at my appendage like it was a foreign thing.

"What?" Jeremy asked, his eyes wide.

Wordlessly, I shrugged out of my coat and started unbottoning my shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking something." I pulled my arm out of my sleeve and stared.

Jeremy gasped, "Unbelievable!"

I had a scar. I didn't have a scar when this whole mess began. The bullet had left its mark.

"What is going on here?"

"I don't know," I said helplessly. "This is all beyond me."

Jeremy suddenly stood and dashed off. I was stunned by his sudden movement. I redressed while he was gone. He was back shortly with his volume of the complete stories of Sherlock Holmes. He was flipping quickly through the pages. He found the story and skipped to the end. His face fell.

"It's the same. The story hasn't changed. He's dead."

"We knew that was a possibility, Jeremy."

"Yes, but if nothing was going to change, then why -"

There was a knock at the door, cutting him off.

"Just a moment!" I snapped.

"Mr. Burke, a package just arrived for you," an apologetic voice called through the door.

"Thank you, just leave it there."

"Will do, sir."

There was a soft thump and footsteps moving away. Jeremy got up, opened the door and picked it up. His demeanor changed instantly.

"David, look at this!" He was nearly buzzing with excitement. I was astonished at his abrupt mood shift. He held out the package. I took it and gaped.

It was a rather heavy rectangular package. The return address was Cox & Co. I looked up and met Jeremy's eyes.

"Surely not!"

"Open it!" he urged.

I did so quickly, tearing at the brown paper packaging. There were two envelopes enclosed sitting on top of a battered tin box. One envelope was addressed with a typewriter. The other was addressed by hand. I tore open the typewritten one first.

Dear Mr. Burke,

We are delivering this package to you at the express wishes of one Doctor John H. Watson. We received these directions long ago and are pleased to have the opportunity to carry them out.

Sincerely,

Michael Cox

Manager, Cox & Co.

I tossed the letter to Jeremy, and he read it as I tore into the next. The hand addressed envelope with my name on it in neat, bold script.

My dear Burke,

I'm enclosing a letter I recently received from Mr. Hilton Cubitt. I just published 'The Adventure of the Dancing Men' and he wrote to me. Also enclosed is a copy of my reply to him. The third enclosure  
>is rather large. It is my dispatch box with all of the cases I recorded, the one we shared included. There is also an original manuscript of 'The Dancing Men' that I want you to have. It includes an unpublished<br>dedication. Take good care of them.

Very sincerely yours,

John H. Watson, M.D.

I handed the letter to Jeremy who was waiting impatiently and found the other enclosed letters.

Doctor Watson,

I just finished reading your story in the Strand. I enjoyed it very much, but was also a great deal surprised. Here I am sitting in the comfort of my library, my wife in the other room, reading about my death and  
>her attempted suicide!<p>

My dear sir, whatever made you write the story as a failure of Mr. Holmes's? It was a wonderful triumph! We are alive and well and never happier.

I'm not criticizing, my good fellow, but merely curious. The story really was very good. And rather chilling to see how things may have turned out had you and Mr. Holmes not intervened.

Again, thank you for all you have done for us. God bless you and Mr. Holmes.

Yours most sincerely,

Hilton Cubitt

My head was spinning. This was just too much! Wordlessly I handed Jeremy Mr. Cubitt's letter and pulled out Watson's response.

Dear Mr. Cubitt,

Thank you for your letter. It was gratifying to hear from you and to know that you and your wife are well.

I'm glad that you enjoyed the story, even though things didn't turn out as you'd expected. You see, though the case itself was a success, Holmes did not consider it a personal success. We had help from some  
>friends who were with us briefly. They were actually the ones to solve the case. Holmes did not want the credit for it, but I wanted to write up an account because of our friends. Unfortunately, for various<br>reasons, they could not be included in the account, so I wrote this as a tribute to them. A reminder of, as you say, what could have happened had they not been here and willing to assist us.

So, really you have our friends to thank for your current happiness. I will pass your thanks on to them when I can.

Sincerely,

John H. Watson

I passed that letter to Jeremy as well. I lifted the dispatch box onto my lap. Reverently, I ran a hand over the lid. The faded, painted words 'John H. Watson., M.D., Late Indian Army' were smooth under my hand. Slowly I opened the lid. There on top was the manuscript Watson had referred to. The pages were yellowed and brittle. Gently I took it out. I turned past the title page and found the dedication he mentioned. A lump formed in my throat and I could feel my eyes burning.

"Jeremy, look," I managed.

He came over next to me and read aloud over my shoulder, "To Jeremy and David, family who were taken from us much too quickly. Believe it or not, we miss you." He choked up at the last words and had to clear his throat.

"Well," he said huskily, "That was unexpected."

Someone pounded on the door and we both jumped. "Let's go, boys! We gotta get to work!" It was the director again.

I closed the dispatch box quickly and slid it under the table. Jeremy set the letters down. I stood and straightened my suit. We were both smiling widely. Manic grins might be a better description.

"Well, my dear Watson, shall we get to work?"

"There's nothing I'd like better, Holmes."

He slipped his arm through mine and we headed for our sitting room.

THE END

* * *

><p>AN: Well, there you have it. I hope it lived up to your expectations. I'm sad to say good bye to the boys. I had a grand time. And thank you to everybody who has made this all the more enjoyable with your great reviews.


End file.
